Valar morghulis
by marinenerd01
Summary: An alternate take on Sansa's reaction to the Red Wedding.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone thanks for reading my work. I own nothing Martin does, if I owned this the Red Wedding would not have happened but I don't and it did. I will be borrowing from the TV show and the book, for example, the Sansa in my story will be the one from the show. I will at times take liberty with canon. Finally, I know this is not how it happens but I wish it did.**

Sansa knelt in the Great Sept and tried not to weep. They had just received word of the death of her mother and brother at the Twins. Bile rose in her throat at the memory of Joffrey's crowing, he had declared a special feast to celebrate the news and had specifically stated that she would attend.

She looked up at the faces of the gods. She had prayed to them to keep her family safe. She had prayed to the Old Gods to keep her family safe and none had answered. Where they real she wondered, or just carved stone? She found at that moment she hoped they were. Because if they were real; then they seemed to favor the Lannisters just like everyone else.

She felt so small and alone. It was all her fault. If she hadn't told the queen of her father's plans they would have been home by now. He would still be alive, as would Arrya. That traitor Theon would not have burned Winterfell and killed her brothers. Father would have found a way to win the war or stop it and Mother and Robb would still be alive, as well as all their banner men. But now they were all dead and it was all her fault.

She could not bear it. She wasn't even a Stark anymore; they had made her a Lannister, one of them. She wanted to die, the thought of having to live like this; surrounded by the people who had murdered her family and giving birth to more Lannisters, was too much to take. She wanted to die; but even now she did not have to courage to end her life. The Hound had said she was weak and the Queen had called her stupid. They were both right. Her stupidity had killed her family and her weakness prevented her from atoning for it by ending her life.

She had always been embarrassed by her sister, who had never behaved as a lady should, but now she found she envied Arrya. Arrya had been brave and strong, things Sansa wished she was now; Arrya had been right, being a lady was pointless.

She hated them all; the Lannisters, the Freys and the Boltons. She wanted to kill them all. She felt like she did when Joffrey made her look at her father's head, to kill them all at to the hells with the consequences. But she was small and weak and they were all surrounded by armed men, she had never even held a sword.

_But, _a voice said in her head; _a sword is a weapon for heroes, and Lord Baelish is right, there are no heroes. The monsters win and they_ _do not wield swords, they wield knives in the dark._

_But I am not a monster. _Another part of her thought.

_Oh, you played a direct part in your father's and sister's deaths and an indirect part in the deaths of the rest of your family, not to mention the destruction of your home. That sounds like a monster to me._

For just a moment she hesitated. She had never done anything like this before. She had never thought about doing anything like this before. Ideas for vengeance danced in her head like the visions of knights and ladies once did but they were no more realistic than her old dreams. She would be killed long before she could carry them all out.

_Think! _The voice shouted in her head. _You are the last of the Starks! When you are gone, your family line will end. How do you want the last of the Starks to be remembered? As the one who sought vengeance for her family, or the one who sat back and waited to see which Lannister would rape her first? Do you truly believe that life is worth living? So what if you die, it's no less than you deserve and the pain and fear will be over. All the rest of your family met their deaths bravely, be like them at the end at least. _

That settled it for Sansa. She rose to her feet; as she did so she felt her old self, her hopes, her dreams and her fantasies all fall away. _My skin has changed from porcelain, to ivory, to steel. And now I shall hone that steel to an edge._ The fear was still there but the memory of her family and the knowledge of all they had suffered and that she would see them soon in a place no one could hurt them again gave her strength.

She started to leave and then stopped. She turned back and walked to the alter of the Stranger. She had always found him frightening and had avoided his alter in the past, as did most people, but he did not scare her now. She lit a candle and placed it on the alter; she knew no prays to the Stranger so she just thought the words. _This is for Sansa Stark of Winterfell. She was a weak and stupid girl who caused much suffering to herself and others. She is dead now as she should be._

She then lit a second candle. _She shan't be alone long. This is for all who will join her._ She rose and walked out. _Sansa Stark is gone. _She thought. _I am Sansa Lannister now, when I have done what I am setting out to do I will take that name again. For now I am a Lannister and a Lannister always pays her debts._

**Author's Notes: Well what did you think? I know, she couldn't have known how the others died but in her mind they were brave. That's it for now, will try to avoid spoilers will give warning if a chapter has spoilers. Bye for now, please pray for Shawn who has cancer and all who need it and may Jesus bless you all till next time. **


	2. Support points

**Author's Notes: Hello again, still own nothing, Martin does.**

That night Sansa paced in her room. She was alone; her husband, keeping to his promise, did not force himself on her. Before she had used this privacy to mourn but no more, she was done with tears, now she used it to plot revenge. Though her resolve was still strong, the more she thought about her course of action the more the difficulties became apparent; she had neither friends nor knowledge of weapons any attempt to extract vengeance by directly confronting those responsible would result only in her death.

So she paced in her room and considered her options. What was she to do? She was one woman against an entire power structure that had wealth, power and, it seemed, the support of the gods themselves? It made her want to start weeping all over again.

Then it came to her; yes, it was a structure. Her mind went back to when they had all been together at Winterfell; all the children had been making a snow castle but it kept falling down. Maester Luwin had come out and Robb had complained about it to him. Luwin had smiled and shown them how to use sticks to support their castle. Structural support points, that's what he had called them. Or at least, she thought that's what he had called them, at the time she had been fantasizing about the beautiful princess and brave knight that lived there.

She grimaced. How stupid she had been then, her head always in the clouds, never learning anything useful. But she did remember Luwin telling them that without supports a structure fell down. That was it; she did not have to attack directly, she had to find her enemies' supports.

The Freys and the Boltons depended on the Lannisters; the Lannisters depended on Lord Tywin and Lord Tywin depended on his family's wealth and influence and she was in the perfect position to strike. She was here, at Kings Landing, the center of power. She could go anywhere and hear everything, after all, she was the wife of a member of the Small Council, and everyone thought her too stupid and timid to be a threat.

She would prove them all wrong. Her mind made up she steeled herself. Tonight was Joffery's victory feast. She knew he mainly wanted her there so he could torment her with the death of the last of her family. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She would go and say all the right things and behave as expected and people would think her cowed and broken, a little bird who sang whatever tune it was commanded to sing, and she would watch.

She would look at the people around her. She would not look at them as she had before, first as ladies and knights, then later as potential tormenters. Now she would look to see who mattered to the Lannisters, which ones helped prop them up and which she could strike at.

**Author's Notes: Hello. Yes, yes I know these chapters have been short. Think of these as set up. The one will be long I promise. Things start happening in the next one. Please let me know if these first two need work, that's a good thing about them being short, easy to fix. Bye for now, please keep praying for Shawn and may Jesus bless you all.**


	3. First Strike

**Author's Notes: Hello, as before I own nothing and here is the action I promised.**

Sansa walked through the halls of the Red Keep, keeping to the shadows and trying to avoid being noticed. The feast had been terrible; the king had bestowed on Lord Tywin the title of House Breaker and Roose Bolton the title Wolf Slayer. He had received a second messesage from the Twins giving a full account of the Red Wedding and had read it aloud at the feast. Some people had clearly been uncomfortable but all had applauded at the king's prompts.

All through the feast Sansa had wanted to either cry or be sick; it seemed it would never end, especially when they had all drunk a toast to Walder Frey and Roose Bolten. But one good thing had come of it all. She had her first target. Looking about the hall her eyes settled on Grand Maester Pycelle. While she was not sure how important he was, he was on the Small Council. More to the point; it was he who had coordinated the Freys and Lannisters as they planed the destruction of her family.

He had even smiled and nodded modestly when Joffery had praised his efforts in service to the Crown. If she were to be honest with herself there was another reason for choosing him. She had never done anything like this before and she needed to start with an easy target; Pycelle was perfect, he was old, feeble and, after tonight, very drunk; as was her husband and nearly everyone else in the Keep it seemed.

At last she reached Pycelle's quarters. She tried the door and found he had not locked it when he had returned. Slowly, as to avoid any squeaking, she pushed the door open. It was very dark inside, not even a candle burned; the only light came from the window. Just as silently as she had opened it she pushed the door shut and then stood there, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the darkness.

As she stood waiting in the darkness, listening to him snore, she found that her breath was coming faster and faster making it hard to catch her breath and her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised it did not wake Pycell. She took a deep breath and forced her breathing back to normal. Finally, her eyes had adjusted enough so that she could make out the bed and its occupant. She slowly began creeping toward it.

With each step her nervous excitement grew. She felt cold tingling in her hands even though she knew they were sweating. Her stomach felt queasy and empty at the same time and she was having trouble focusing her thoughts. She felt like she was standing on a rock over empty space getting ready to jump, anticipating the feelings of both falling and the feeling of weightlessness. She felt terrified and exhilarated in equal measures.

Finally she reached Pycell's bedside. Looking down on him the full impact of what she was going to do struck her again. This flew in the face of everything her parents had taught her. _Enough, _she told herself; _that girl is dead, and so are they._

Doing her best to push aside her fears and stay calm she reached up and pulled out one of her hairpins. While the top had gild work decoration on it the rest was eight inches of solid bronze. She knew for a fact how sharp it was; Arrya had used similar ones against her on more than one occasion. She took the pin in both hands, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and thrust down.

Immediately she saw that she had made a mistake. With her eyes closed she had not seen were she was aiming and had hit only his should. Additionally, she had hesitated when she struck and so the blow had not been at full strength.

His eyes flew open and he gave a hoarse cry of pain. Panic seized her and she thrust down again and again and again. It seemed that it would never end; him thrashing about, she thrusting and both of them screaming as loud as they could. Finally she realized he had ceased to do both.

She stood over him for a time, unable to move or even think straight. At last she gathered herself and, seeing a candle, lit it with a twig from the embers in the fireplace. What she saw when she looked closely at Pycell made her drop the candle in horror, plunging the room back into darkness.

The Grand Maester was a bloody ruin. His face and hands were gouged in multiple places. His left cheek had a gash so deep teeth could be seen. The worst sight of all, however, was his right eye. The needle had gone right through it, bursting it like a grape trod underfoot.

Sansa fell to her hands and knees and vomited. When she had finished she curled up into a ball. She could scarcely believe what she had done, she had killed.

Yes, she had killed. She had killed a man who had helped murder her family. She thought about that, as if she had somehow forgotten that fact and was just now remembering it. Slowly her fear and horror faded to be replaced by something else. Euphoria; she had, at least in part, avenged her family's murders! She was no longer a little bird singing whatever song she was told to sing, she was a blooded wolf! Arrya had always called her silly, but which of them was the killer?

Sansa became aware of a new sound, laughter, she was laughing. The old Sansa would have been horrified, but the new Sansa was not. She looked at the body and now felt only delight at what she had done. After all the abuse, fear and humiliation that she had endured, she had struck back. Her only regret now was that it wasn't an actual Lannister lying before her.

She had never felt this way before, never felt so alive. Her thoughts whirled about in her head; she felt drunk, she felt like she was dancing on air, like she could run, or sing, or dance forever. She felt sensations that she had never felt before and could not describe. For a moment she felt like waking her husband and demanding he take her.

_Is this what men feel like when they fight? _She said to herself. _No wonder they love going to war so much!_

The distant shout of a sentry made her realize just how late it was. It also helped her to bring herself somewhat under control. She needed to be back in her rooms before the servants started moving about. She had just begun and could not allow herself to be stopped now.

As she left the room she took one last look at the bed and smiled a smile that would have frightened the Queen if she had seen it. Left and headed back to her rooms. As she walked she began to sing, softly so that only she could hear.

"And who are you? The proud lord said…"

**Author's Notes: Well what did you think? I hope you found it worth the wait. Do you think I strayed too far from her character? Please let me know in the reviews. Bye for now, please pray for Shawn and all who need it and may Jesus bless you all.**


	4. A plan

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone. Thanks for liking my story. As always Martin owns **_**Game of Thrones**_**.**

For the next few days Sansa waited in tense anticipation. Every time she saw anyone in armor, which was every day, or heard knocking on the door to their quarters she nearly panicked, convinced she had been found out. It wore at her, causing her to grow drawn and pale, fortunately if anyone noticed they attributed it to the news of her family. But as the days passed she felt her nerves settling as it dawned on her that she had, in fact, gotten away with it.

Her fear was replaced by satisfaction at what she had done. She felt a secret thrill whenever she went out; to walk among the enemies of her family, having them all look at her and not realizing that a killer walked among them. She was eager to strike again.

Her enthusiasm, however, was now tempered by caution and experience. Her success had been due in no small part to luck. Pycelle had been a drunk old man and even then she had nearly bungled it. Whatever she did next she would have to be more careful, more subtle about it. But try as she might she could not think of what she could do.

When inspiration came it came from a most unexpected source. Four days after Pycelle died her husband returned late. Surprisingly; he was not drunk, he threw himself into a chair with a weary sigh. "Get me some wine," he told a servant; "And see if it cannot restore my sanity."

"Are you unwell my lord?" Asked Sansa; playing the role of the dutiful wife as she had been taught and as was expected of her.

"Only bone weary my dear. The small Council has been meeting all day. Really; that old bugger Pycelle made a mess of things by getting himself killed."

Sansa's ears pricked up but she had to keep it from showing. If she seemed too eager it would rouse his suspicion but she had to know why Pycelle's death was causing the Small Council so much trouble. Apart from the satisfaction it caused her there might be some way she could turn it to her advantage.

"Why would his death be causing you so much trouble my lord?" She asked. Keeping her voice quiet and keeping any trace of interest out of it.

"Oh," he said with a groan; "With him dead the Citadel will have to appoint a new Grand Maester. The last time they tried to do that they were going to put Gormon Tyrell in his place. Well, my father wasn't going to have a Tyrell on the Small Council so that is why he got old Pycelle back on the Council."

"But the King is going to marry a Tyrell, why would he object to a Tyrell being on the Council?"

"Oh, don't I know it." Her husband groaned. "Do you know why the King is marrying the Tyrell girl? Because we need House Tyrell because we cannot win this war without them; and oh, do those rose-scented little twits know it especially that dried up old harridan Olenna Tyrell.

"Ever since the Battle of Blackwater they've been trying to push in. First marrying their girl to the King, then trying to marry you to the Knight of the Flowers and finally marrying the above mentioned knight to my darling sister, the poor sot; and the more the Tyrells push in the more the Lannisters are pushed out and does that ever annoy Father and Sister dear."

"So your father does not like the Tyrells." Sansa asked, hoping she sounded stupid and not overly interested.

"Oh he hates every last one of them almost as much as my sister does," he replied, tilting his head back so he could stare up at the ceiling; "Especially the Crone of Thorns." His face took on a speculative look and he tapped his wine glass and when he spoke it was more to himself than to her. "Which, when you think about, it is rather a shame since we need a marriage or two to cement this alliance. The two are so alike they would be a perfect match for one another." He seemed to think about that for a moment or two then shuddered and drained his glass.

Sansa said no more. She did not want to make him curious about her sudden interest in things. Besides she now knew all that she needed to know. The Lannisters were dependent on the Tyrells; without them they might lose the war and if they lost the war they would be destroyed and without the Lannister's protection the Boltons and Frey would be done for as well. There was no way Stannis could trust such blatantly treacherous houses; he would have to destroy them to secure his rule and win the loyalty of those they had betrayed.

All she had to do was find a way to drive the Lannisters and Tyrells apart and do it in such a way as to ensure no reconciliation was possible. She turned and walked from the room. She knew of just such a way and she thought she knew how to bring it about.

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone I hope you continue to like the story. Sorry about the shortness of the chapters. How am I doing in sticking to the characters in speech and actions are they true to the characters? I would like a knife-wielding Sansa but really that just isn't her and it would just make her another Arrya. Fear not though there will be more bodies before the end. That is it for now will write again, please keep praying for Shawn and all who need it and may Jesus bless you all.**


	5. A plan exacuted

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone. Thanks for the reviews and your concern for Shawn. Well, here we go.**

The next day Sansa went for a walk in the gardens accompanied by her maid Shae. The day was bright and clear and she remembered when she had walked here with Sir Loras when she thought she was to be married to him. She felt a brief twinge of sadness at what might have been but she quickly suppressed it. Those thoughts and feelings belonged to the old Sansa, she was not here to dwell on futures that would never happen; she was here to put her plan into motion.

Once she was close to where she wanted to be she stopped as if she had just remembered something. Her hand went to her throat as she turned back to Shae. "Shae, I forgot my necklace, the pearl one, go back and fetch it."

"Yes my lady." With an exasperated sigh that she barely troubled to hide Shae curtsied and turned back the way they had come. With her maid gone Sansa turned and took the path to the left. Though she felt fear building inside her she continued on. All too soon she saw what she was looking for. In a small clearing stood the King and two of his Kings Guard, Sir Meryn Trant and Sir Osmund Kettleblack.

They were here to meet Lady Margaery Tyrell. She and the King often met here and went for walks in the gardens, people said it was the Queen's idea and the King only did it because he was made to. Sansa looked about and was pleased to see that Margaery had not yet arrived. Excellent, but she probably wasn't far off; Sansa needed to act fast.

For just a moment she hesitated; she had endured this so many times before, she did not want to go through it again. She took a deep breath, furious with herself. She remembered something Theon had said when they were all still at Winterfell. At his home, the Iron Islands, people showed their devotion to the Drowned God by allowing themselves to be drowned. Afterwards a priest breathed life back into them. Then the priest said 'That which has died cannot die again.' And the man who had been drowned had to reply, 'But rises stronger.'

At the time Sansa had shuddered and then had had several nightmares afterwards. Now she felt differently; the words now applied to her. She had died at the Twins yet remained among the living. She did not know if what she was now was stronger or uncaring of the consequences and it did not matter, either would do.

She walked into the clearing and then stopped short, as if she had been unaware of anyone else being present. The King turned in her direction. As he registered who it was his expression, which before had been bored and sullen, became filled with cruel glee. Sansa looked about, as if she were seeking a way to escape his notice.

"Sansa!" Joffery called; "Come here!" Slowly she approached and bowed.

"Your Grace." She said, keeping her tone low and a bit frightened.

"I did it you know." He said in a gleeful voice and a triumphant smirk on his grace.

"Did what Your Grace?"

"What do you think, you stupid girl? I killed your traitor brother, just as I told you I would after I killed your traitor father. So much for the so-called King in the North; and you said he would have my head. Gods above she is a stupid one, just as my mother said she was."

This last part was addressed to his guards, who grinned and chuckled. _Gods above he is practically skipping! _ Sansa thought in disgust, how could she have ever wanted to marry this brutal creature?

Then Joffery turned back to her and his cruelty became mixed with lust. "Still," he said in a speculative manner as he looked her up and down; "Being stupid is not the same as being ugly. I hear my uncle still hasn't bedded you. After I am married I think I'll show him how it's done. It would punish him properly for his insolence I think. What do you think of that?" He said in a sneering voice.

This was not the first time he had threatened to do this. He was expecting her to be frightened by this, as she had been in the past. This time, however, she did something she had never done before. While keeping her head down she said; "I do not believe your Lord Grandfather, the Hand of the King, would approve."

The King went stock still for a moment and when he spoke again his face was rigid with anger and his voice was little more than a rage-filled hiss. "What. Did. You. Just. Say?" He spat out, sounding as if he had to struggle to get every word out past his rage. "I. Am. THE KING!" The last part was shouted out at the top of his voice. His face was now red, his eyes were wild and his whole body seemed to be shaking.

He spun to face his guards. "Sir Trant! " He yelled. The knight, having performed this service before, knew what to do. He came up to Sansa and struck her in the face. The blow had more than enough power to split her lip and knock her to the ground. "Hold her up!" Yelled the King.

Sir Trant grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her knees, causing her to cry out in pain. As Trant held her like that Joffery came up and slapped her several times in the face. It stung but because he was neither as strong as his guards nor armored it did not hurt as much as the beatings usually did.

"I am the king!" He screamed at her, as he kicked in the stomach driving the breath from her lungs. "And the king can do as he likes!" He kicked her again. "Now say it!" He screamed at her.

Though she was coughing and chocking, trying to get air back into her lungs, she managed to choke out what he wanted to hear. "You...are...the...king…Your…Grace." She had to pause and catch her breathe before she could continue. "And you…may do as you like…Your Grace."

The King stepped back, panting but with a satisfied smirk on his face. "Well," he said; "Even the most stupid of girls can learn it seems. But I think we need to reinforce the lesson. Sir Trant, perhaps if she had to walk back to her rooms naked she would not forget so readily." Sir Trant released her hair and grabbed the back of her dress.

"Your Grace!" A voice called, drawing all their attention. Just entering the clearing were Lady Margaery Tyrell and her brother Sir Loras Tyrell. "There you are Your Grace, we have been looking everywhere for you."

Though they had to have seen and heard what was going on Margaery gave no sigh of it, though Loras's face did show surprise and anger. "I do apologize for keeping you waiting Your Grace." Margary said, placing herself between Sansa and Joffery.

The King, for his part, forced a smile a smile to replace his leer of anticipation he had had a moment before. "Think nothing of it my lady, I await your pleasure." Margaery then turned, as if seeing Sansa for the first time.

"Why, Lady Sansa, it is good to see you. Though I fear you have had an accident. Loras, be a dear and escort her back to her rooms." So saying, she linked her arm with the King's and led him away, his guards walking behind them.

Sir Loras helped Sansa to her feet and lent her his arm for support. For a while they walked in awkward silence. At last Sir Loras spoke. "I am sorry my lady, a lady should not be treated like that."

_Yet, you did nothing to stop it._ Sansa thought. Yet she found she was not very bitter about it. She had been beaten before and no one had come to help her then but her husband and the Hound. The Hound was right, there were no true knights and all the stories were just that, stories. But she did not need a true knight, just a strong one.

"It is alright, Sir Loras, I am a stupid girl and the King had to correct me." Before he could reply she continued. "I would not worry Sir Loras."

"Worry my lady?" He asked in a confused tone of voice.

"Yes," she replied; "About Margaery. She isn't stupid like me; I doubt the King will ever have to correct her."

He ground to a halt, his head snapping about to stare in the direction the others had gone in. His breathing quickened and his eyes blazed and he looked fierce and dangerous. Slowly he forced himself to relax and they continued on their way.

Sansa turned her head away from him as she could not keep a small smile from her lips. Everything had gone as she had hoped it would. Margaery had already known of Joffery's brutal nature of course, as Sansa had told her herself, but Loras had not. Now he not only knew but the thought of it happening to Margaery had been planted in his mind.

Sansa had lied, it was amazing had apt and comfortable she was becoming with lying. It would happen to Margaery as well. Joffery would not be able to stop himself and neither could anyone else. Eventually it would be Margaery with the bruises and blood; but unlike with Sansa, there would be repercussions.

The first time Loras saw those bruises he would know where they came from and she doubted the Seven themselves could save Joffery from Sir Loras's wrath, she knew that those white-cloaked ruffians he surrounded himself with could not. They walked on; Sansa finally managing to hide the smirk she had as she considered what would happen if the King died at the hands of a Tyrell.

The smile had not been seen by Sir Loras; it had, however, been seen a bent-backed middle aged gardener who had been industrially pruning a hedge and studiously not listening to the conversation between his social betters.

**Author's Notes: Well, there you have it, revenge Sansa style. What did you think did I keep them in character? No offence intended but Loras did not strike me as overly bright at times. Let me know what you think. Please keep praying for Shawn and all who need it. Bye for now and may Jesus bless you all.**


	6. Dreams and more

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone. Glad you all liked the last chapter, as always Martin owns all this I am just playing with it.**

Sansa dreamed. In her dream she was home in Winterfell, but it was not the Winterfell that she remembered. It was in ruins, the buildings torn down and the walls blackened by fire. She walked amongst the ruins and felt the urge to weep.

A sound reached her ears, turning she sought the source of the sound. When she saw it she did weep. It was Lady, her direwolf. Lady, who had died because she had lied for love of that monster Joffery. To Sansa's horror blood smeared Lady's coat from a knife thrust to the throat. Crying, she threw her arms around Lady and buried her face in the bloody fur.

"I am sorry Lady. Oh I am so, so sorry. I did not this to happen and now you're dead because of me!"

Lady looked her straight in the eye and even though she was a wolf Sansa would have sworn she saw love and forgiveness in her eyes. Then everything faded.

She soared through the air. She heard nothing but the rush of air and the beating of her wings; looking down her sharp eyes scanned the ground for prey. She flew over the strange shaped rock that so many of the two legged creatures burrowed in. The bright lights hurt her eyes and she turned away from it.

She looped and spun in the air, reveling in the joy of flight. Below something caught her eye. Turning toward it she dove. Down she shot faster and faster. She stretched out her talons to seize the mouse as it ran frantically before her. At the last moment it darted into its hole and she found herself thwarted.

As she pulled up she saw lights high up on the rock. Even though she normally avoided the lights she felt a strange curiosity. Flying up she nestled on a ledge and looked in. There lay two of the two-legged creatures nestled up together. One was small, its legs twisted and the other was taller was straight limbs and long fur. She could not understand why but both seemed familiar for some reason.

Sansa awoke with a start. She had been having a most peculiar dream. First she had been home and then she had been flying. She supposed that she had been dreaming of home because she wanted to return there. From what she had heard though Winterfell now looked more like the ruin of her dream than the home she remembered and longed for. It saddened her to think that she could not escape even in her dreams.

The memory of Lady saddened her as well. To have seen her, even if only as a dream, had been wonderful and now it felt like Lady had just died all over again. She would choose, she decided, to remember that last look she had received from Lady, the look of love and forgiveness. It comforted her to think that Lady would forgive her and she hoped that her family would do the same when they met on the other side.

The second art of the dream confused her. It had seemed so real, more so than the first part. She could still feel the sensation of flight. It had been wonderful, never in her life had she felt so free, she had wanted the dream to go on forever.

Still, she told herself, it had been only a dream. It saddened her to think so but it was the truth. Then a sound caught her attention.

Looking towards the source she stared in amazement as a great owl spread its wings and flew away. All at once she remembered why the two creatures had seemed so familiar in her dream. It had been her and Tyrion, she had been looking at herself and her husband threw the owl's eyes.

**Author's Notes: Well, I hope you all like this little twist to things. Let me know what you think in the reviews. Please keep praying for Shawn and persecuted Christians everywhere and all who need it. Especially the American pastor Saeed Abedini who was sentenced in Iran to eight years in prison. See you all later and may Jesus bless you all.**


	7. Of wings and deadly shades

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone. Sorry that it has been awhile since I last updated. I hope you enjoy. As always, Martin and HBO own everything.**

Nearly every night Sansa flew. She was not sure what it all was. She knew that the owl was real and it was more than just a dream but she did not know quite what was going on. She just knew that she loved it. She loved the feeling of weightlessness, of diving and soaring, all of it. She found herself during the day feeling heavy and trapped and longing for night to come so she could shed her skin, if only in her mind and fly free of the city she had come to hate.

For a time she was content to just fly, allowing the bird to do as it would. After a week of the dreams, or whatever they were, she tried something different. As the bird flew toward the left she tried to turn toward the right. Immediately she felt the bird resist her. She had not been expecting this and the bird held her off.

The next night she was ready to be resisted when she tried again. This time when the bird pushed at her she pushed back. The struggle was brief, she was determined and the bird proved to be no match for her. Once she was in control she found she could fly just as easily as the bird did. If anything she enjoyed this even more. She zipped between towers, dove at people and startled horses. On nights when she felt particularly depressed she would just fly away from the city as she could before she would awaken.

Once she mastered control she began to experiment with other aspects of it. First she tried leaving the bird when she wanted to, not just when she awoke. She was hampered by the fact that she had no idea how she got into the creature in the first place. After number of tries she found she could do so if she thought of it as if she were taking off a dress, just sliding out of the bird's body.

Shortly after she started doing it something unforeseen occurred. She was flying over one of the fields surrounding the city when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look at it she saw a stone flying toward her. Before she could turn the stone struck her; pain shot through her and she jolted awake with a cry of pain. Even awake she felt pain and somehow knew the owl was dead. Her cry had awoken Tyrion but she managed to convince him she had only been having a nightmare.

The next night she did not fly. For a time she was so shaken that she did nothing with her strange ability. As time went on, however, her desire to escape, if only briefly, from the city and her life led her to try again. She waited till Tyrion was asleep and then went to the window and waited.

Eventually a bird flew by. Watching the bird she focused on it and willed her mind to slide into the bird's body. As before there was resistance but she overcame it and once again she flew.

Her joy at her discoveries were soured when one day she realized that she had not given any thought to revenge, or even her family, for some time. All her thoughts had been on flight and the joy and feeling of freedom it gave her. Instantly she was filled with grief and a wave of self-loathing. It had been just this attitude of selfish indulgence that had led her family to disaster in the first place.

She resolved to refocus herself on her plans for revenge. Just as she decided on this the door to their rooms opened. In walked her husband. He had gone earlier to attend a meeting of the Small Council and he was back far earlier than he usually was. He seemed nervous and angry, though she did not think he was angry at her.

He did not say anything to her; he just went to the table and poured himself a generous glass of wine. To her surprise after he had downed it and poured himself a second, equally large glass, he poured wine into a second glass and offered it to her. "You'll want this." He said simply.

"My lord?" She asked, keeping her voice as neutral as she always did.

"I have just come from the Small Council and I have news that will affect you as well. You might want to sit down as well."

Sansa took the glass and sat; now feeling uneasy. Her family was dead, what else could be so terrible that Tyrion would act so towards her?

Her husband half emptied his glass, took a deep breath, and continued. "As you may, or may not know Walder Frey." Sansa felt herself shudder at the mere mansion of that hated name. "Walder Frey," Tyrion began again; "Was promised the lordship of the River Lands in place of the Tullys among other things in exchange for his…turning his coat." He finished lamely.

_A nice way of saying for murdering my family! _Sansa thought bitterly, her body now shaking with rage and renewed grief.

"Well," Tyrion said, apparently coming to what he had to say and wishing he wasn't. "It has been decided that to show the Crown's appreciation for his efforts on its behalf; the document granting him the title should be delivered to him by a member of the Small Council. Father, in his infinite wisdom, _requested_ that I take the duty upon myself." Tyrion said this last part with a snort and roll of his eyes. "As if the old tyrant has ever requested anything from anybody in his entire life.

"Well, as you can doubtless guess, I am off to the Twins and His Grace…" he paused and then gathered himself; "Has commanded that you shall accompany me to the Twins."

Sansa felt her body go cold and her stomach plummet. Go to the Twins! The place of her family's murder! Be surrounded by their killers and be expected to smile and flatter them?! The mere thought of it was overwhelming. Her glass slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor.

Tyrion looked at her with pity. "I don't like it any more than you do. But neither of us have a choice in the matter. I shall shield you as best I may. I don't doubt that you are in for an unpleasant time; but you are a Lannister now and they would not dare harm or insult you in my presence. So stay close to me and we'll stay no more than we have too."

She simply nodded and he soon left to begin to make arrangements. She did not know how long she sat there, her mind refused to focus. She couldn't do it! She could not go there! Just thinking about it was enough to make her want to cry.

Just then Shae came and announced she had a visitor. She was just about to tell Shae to tell whoever it was she was unwell and couldn't see anyone when Lord Varys entered the room.

He gave an elaborate bow. "Please forgive this rude interruption, it is completely inexcusable." Without waiting to be invited to do so he sat down in a chair. Seeing that she could not get rid of him Sanas sighed and sent Shae to fetch some light refreshments.

"Please allow me to offer my condolences on your recent lose."

The words, so soon after her husband's news, caused a fresh flash of pain. Never the less, she managed to get out the reply she had used so many times before. "My brother and mother were traitors and died traitors' deaths."

Varys nodded his head. "Yes, but still, familial affection is not so easily cast aside. And now you have to travel to the place of their deaths that must indeed be difficult."

Sansa felt her stomach clench at the mention of her impending journey. She wished Varys would go away but he continued. "I hear that of late you have seemed distant and have had some difficulty sleeping. This will doubtless not be helped by your journey. So, before you go, I thought you might need this." He brought from his sleeve a glass phial.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

"Essence of nightshade my lady; three drops of this will send you into a deep sleep. Be careful though, ten drops will put you to sleep forever."

Sansa stared at the bottle possibilities starting to swirl in her mind. Forcing herself to remain calm she to the phial. "I thank you, how many drops does this have?"

"Thirty my lady; hopefully by the time you run out you will no longer need it. If you do you can always get more at the Twins, again I must warn you to be careful, three drops, no more."

Sansa put it away, again thanking him and suppressing the urge to smile.

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone. For a while I was thinking how I was going to do this, I did not want to spoil things for the none-readers seeing this so I decided to have her do something else, I hope you'll like it. Not sure about all the aspects of warging so let me know if I got it wrong. Yes. I know she figured it out fast but unlike Martin I don't have nearly two decades to write this. Please keep praying for Shawn, persecuted Christians, Saeed Abedini and everyone else who needs it. Bye for now and may Jesus bless you all.**


	8. A late night swim

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone, thanks for the reviews. As always Martin owns GOT. A special thanks to IV Legacy of Poseidon, whose note help inspire this chapter. **

They departed from King's Landing for the Twins three days later. They traveled in the royal carriage with a large escort of Lannister soldiers. For Sansa the journey was a cruel parody of her journey here, which seemed to have occurred a lifetime ago, and a mockery of the journey home she had prayed for so long.

Her only relief was her strange ability. Nearly every night, as her husband lay sleeping, she would enter some creature of the night. Sometimes it would be an owl, other times a fox and many other nocturnal creatures. During these times she allowed herself to forget where she was going and what she doubtless would have to endure when she got there.

The journey was uneventful until they were about four days from the Twins. They had stopped for the noon meal when one of their escorts came up to Tyrion and informed him that a large party of armed men was riding toward them. For a moment Sansa had feared they were about to be attacked; but then the sentry informed them that they carried the banner of the Freys. Clearly they were an honor guard sent to escort them to the Twins.

Sansa found that she could not bear to face them yet and retired to the carriage pleading illness, she doubted she fooled anyone but her husband did not protest. Before long she heard the sounds of the Frey party meeting up with theirs. Though their voices were muffled she still found the sound of them hateful. With the curtains all drawn the carriage soon became stuffy, much to Shae's annoyance, but Sansa would not let her open them. Even with them closed she still felt like they were gazing at her.

They camped for the night near a small river. After supper Tyrion said he needed to get some air and stretch his legs after riding all day. Shortly after he had left Shae said she needed some air after being cooped up in a stuffy carriage all day. Sansa did not mind their absence; it was easier for her if no one was around, after the strain of day she needed to get away from the camp.

Going back into the carriage she cast her mind into a nearby fox. As soon as she was in control she set off into the night. After running around for a while she began to feel thirsty, so she headed towards the river to get a drink. As she drew near she realized to her dismay that she was near the camp of the Frey troops.

She was suddenly startled by a burst of raucous laughter. To her left, right at the edge of the water three men sat drinking and laughing. She did not recognize them so she knew that they were Frey. She was just starting to back away when she realized that they were talking about her family.

"Yeah," laughed one, a small skinny man with numerous warts; "And then Bolton comes up to the Stark boy and says, 'The Lannisters send their regards and gutted him like a fish!" The others howled with laughter and one of the others, a short fat man, joined in.

"Funny, almost as funny as that bellowing his mother did, sounded like a horse birthing a colt! But you shut her up good, didn't you?"

This was addressed to the third member of the group, a man of average height and build with a fuzzy beard, who nodded modestly. "Yeah," he slurred, clearly drunk; "Slit her ear to ear I did. Just like bleeding a pig, the old sow." This brought another burst of laughter from the others. As the laughter died down he stood turned toward the river and began to relieve himself.

The fat one silently got up and gave him a shove, almost sending him into the water. The man turned back with a curse and punched the other man full in the face. The other man fell down and cursed in turn. "What was that for? It was just a bit of fun!"

"Never mind him." Said the small man as he helped the fat man up. "For a man named Rivers he's a real coward around water, never learned to swim or nothing."

Just then someone called to them and Skinny and Fatty headed back to the camp, Rivers sat back down and continued drinking. Sansa had heard every word they had said; the words, and the glee in their voices, had cut her like a knife. She wanted to launch herself at him and tear at him with the fox's teeth. But the animal was too small, even drunk the man could fight it off, and there were no larger animals about.

Then a thought occurred to her. It had never occurred to her before and even now she shrank from it, unsure if she could do it. Then she remembered that this man had murdered her mother and had just been bragging about it. A wave of hate, the likes of which she had only felt once before, filled her pushing her doubts and fears away. Gathering herself she left the fox. She did not return to her own body, however, instead; she cast herself into to man.

It was nothing like entering the mind of an animal. Their fear at her entrance was low and quiet, like gentle breeze, easily ignored. The man's fear howled like a fierce gale, the sheer shock of it nearly repelled her. But it did not. It helped that the man was both drunk and tired from the day's travel, which weakened his resistance. Sansa marshaled all the hate and pain caused by his and his companions' words and pressed on. The man tried to cry out in fear but she seized control of his mouth and forced it shut.

Even so, she knew she could not hold him long; the strain was just too much; already she felt herself being forced out as weariness and drunkenness were pushed aside by the man's fear. Already she was losing control of his limbs. But that was alright. She did not have to hold him for long.

She made him turn and walk towards the water; gods above it was hard, his terror increasing with each step. Having only partial control, the man was shaking and jerking with half-controlled muscles as he entered the water. Already losing control Sansa forced the body under her control to start swimming. The efforts were made clumsy due to her only having partial control and his clothing becoming heavy from the water, but still she pushed on. His fear crashing into her so hard it had become almost unbearably painful.

She soon had him out deep enough, his feet no long able to reach the bottom. With control almost gone she sent him a message. _I don't know if you can hear me; but if you can I just want you to know that I am the daughter of the Catelyn Stark, the woman you murdered. Now,_ and here she gave a mental smile that might have chilled Tywin himself,_ die. _Just as he forced her out she made him submerge himself.

She reentered her own body and gave a deep, shuddering gasp. Her head ached abominably and her whole body felt weak, stiff and covered in sweat. She slowly rose, feeling slightly nauseous.

Hearing a commotion she exited the carriage. Outside people were moving about in a slightly confused manner, as no one was quite sure what was going on. "My lady," Shae said coming up to her; "You look unwell, are you ill?"

Sansa ignored her, focusing instead on Tyrion, who was approaching with his man Sir Bronn. "What is happening?" She asked.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, my dear. There was a little disturbance in the Frey camp."

"Aye," said Sir Bronn; "Some stupid sod went and fell in the river. Bugger was dead by the time they dragged him out."

"Oh." Sansa said, careful to keep her tone blank.

"Well," Tyrion said; "I suggest we all turn in. There is nothing we can do for the poor fellow and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

As the reentered the carriage Sansa caught Shae's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for your concern; but I am quite alright. In fact," here she gave a small, mischievous grin; "You could say I just had a wonderful dream."

**Author's Notes: Well another chapter done. I hope it was to everyone's liking. I know how much trouble warging a human was for Brann and I don't want Sansa doing it all the time so I made it very difficult for her to do it, in fact I am not sure if she'll do it again. IV Legacy of Poseidon suggested that the next kill be small fry so as to not risk getting caught. Well, as can be seen here, the best murder is one where murder isn't suspected at all. ****. ****Please keep praying for Shawn, persecuted Christians, Saeed Abedini and everyone else who needs it, including Amir Hekmati, an American in poor health being held in Iran. Bye for now and may Jesus bless you all.**


	9. A desision is made

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone, sorry I have not written in a while well, here we go.**

The rest of journey was completed without incident and they arrived at the Twins on schedule. The closer they had come the more uneasy Sansa had become. She could not get the knowledge of what had happened there out of her mind. It got so bad that Sansa began to feel ill. She just could not bear the thought of being surrounded by her family's killers it pressed down on her like a physical weight leaving her in a state of near panic.

In shortly before they arrived they made a finals stop to allow them a chance to change from their travel stained cloths for more elaborate dress to meet with Lord Frey. As her maid helped her change Sansa tried to brace herself for the coming meeting with Lord Frey and his brood. She couldn't do it. In spite of everything she had done she could not steel herself enough to face them. She had to get out of this somehow, but how?

In desperation she found herself doing something she never thought she would do, she asked herself what Arya would do. She was sure her sister would find a way out of this, doubtless something vulgar and disgusting. Suddenly she knew exactly what her sister would do. She remembered, several years ago, they had been at a lesson in embroidery and Arya had hated it. When Septa Mordane hadn't been looking Arya had stuck her finger down her throat and made herself vomit. She had claimed to be sick and had left; ostensibly she had gone to see Maester Luwin, in reality Sansa knew she had spent the afternoon climbing trees.

At the time Sansa had been disgusted by what her sister had done; but now, faced with the alternative, it did not seem so bad. Making sure Shae wasn't looking; she braced herself and thrust her finger down her throat. She gagged but kept pressing. Finally she got the desired results and with a final gag she vomited down the front of her dress.

"My Lady!" Shae cried as she turned at the sound of Sansa vomiting.

"I feel ill. I may have a fever." Sansa said, trying to make herself sound and look as pitiful and weak as possible.

"Of course My Lady." Shae said. From her voice and the look she was giving her Sansa was certain that Shae did not believe her but her maid did not say anything. Shae helped her change and then went to inform Lord Tyrion. Her husband soon came and was very kind and solicitous. Sansa meekly apologized for being so much trouble and said she did not feel that she could attend the banquet that Lord Frey was giving to welcome them to the Twins. He husband said he understood. Like Shae he looked as if he did not quite believe her.

Sansa bundled up and stayed in the carriage when they arrived at the Twins. As they entered the courtyard she heard the fanfare of the welcoming party. When Tyrion exited the carriage to receive their welcome Sansa crouched as far back into the carriage as she could and kept her traveling hood over her head. Still she was sure she could feel their eyes on her.

"I welcome you to the Twins Lord Tyrion." Someone said in a raspy voice.

"I accept; and please allow me to thank you in advance for your generous hospitality Lord Frey."

At the name Sansa flinched and a way of hatred flowed over her. This was him; this was the man who had murdered her family! She hated him more than she had felt it was possible for one person to hate another. She wanted to charge out of the carriage and attack him with her bare hands but she didn't. She had to be calm and think of a plan, she couldn't risk getting caught by acting irrationally.

"And where is your lovely young wife?" Walder said.

"Alas," Tyrion said with a note of false regret; "She is not feeling well. Nothing serious, just over tired. Though I fear she will be unable to attend the feast tonight. Please allow me to apologize in advance."

"Think nothing of it." Walder said with a tone of false joviality. "After all, some say that feasts here are not good for those from the Stark family." At this he and those around him laughed.

Sansa had thought she had hated him before but what she felt now drowned it a roiling sea of hatred. To the hells with caution! She did not care about being caught or consequences! Walder Frey was going to die! More than that, he was going to suffer!

That night she remained in the rooms provided for them while her husband attended the feast. At last he returned. Knowing him she offered him wine and offered some to Shae as well. After they drank it she kept them talking until the essence of nightshade she had put in their cups took effect.

After sleep took them she went to Shae's room and put on one of her dresses, after which she placed the bottle of nightshade, which she had tied to a cord, round her neck and hid it inside the dress. Returning to the common room she went to the sleeping Shae and took her knife and tided it to her own thigh. Going into the room she shared with her husband she took one of the numerous bottles of wine he had brought along. She then took a deep breath and walked out into the hallway.

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone sorry it has been so long, I will try to have the next one ready sooner. Just so you know, the next chapter is one of the reasons this story is rated M. There will be blood if you don't like that just skip over it. Anyway please keep praying for Shawn, persecuted Christians, Saeed Abedini, an American pastor jailed in Iran; and everyone else who needs it, including Amir Hekmati, an American in poor health also being held in Iran, and the Us as it seems we may be in for a rough time. Also for the girl who lost both parents three other family members in Colorado, Gracie Johnson, and the missing hikers in Washington, Alejandrea Wilson and Kristopher Zitzewitz. Bye for now and may Jesus bless you all.**


	10. The howling of justice

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone. Thanks for the reviews. Well here we go. You might not want to eat before you read this.**

Sansa walked down the corridors. Her heart was hammering in her chest, both in fear of being discovered and horror at what she planned to do. It took her a while to find her way to Walder Frey's chambers as she did not want to ask directions and be remembered, but at last by following a servant, she found it.

She waited till the servant had departed, gathering her courage and her hatred, and then walked to the door and knocked.

"What?!" That hateful voice called from within.

"A gift from Lord Tyrion my lord." She replied, trying to imitate the tone she heard servants using.

After a few moments the door opened. "Come in." The voice commanded. Slowly she walked in, closing the door behind her.

His rooms were large and rather shabbily furnished, everything looking old and worn. Frey himself sat in a chair. He was clad only a bed gown and dressing robe. As she came in he looked at the bottle of wine she held and then stared at her; for a moment she feared he would see enough of her mother in her to realize who see was. Then he leered horribly at her.

"I see the Lord Imp has sent me more than one gift, he is indeed most generous. Follow me." Rising he led her into the bed room, which was dominated by a large four-poster bed. He indicated a night table on which was a glass.

"Pour me a glass." He commanded. She walked to the table and poured wine into one. Looking slightly over her shoulder she saw he wasn't looking in her direction. Carefully she drew the bottle out of her dress. Uncapping the bottle she poured three drops into the cup and swirled it around to mix it in. Turning she went to him and handed him the cup.

"Now take off your dress." He commanded after he had taken a deep draught. Sansa's heart raced, she had not anticipated this! She could not think of anything she would rather not do than that. But she had to keep him occupied to the drug took effect.

She decided to play stupid; if it worked on the Lannisters it should work on the Frays. "My lord?" She said, as if she did not understand the command.

"You heard me, you stupid girl!" He snapped, and she was pleased to hear that his words were already slurring. "I said take off your dress!"

"My lord did not say…" she began.

"I don't care what your lord said! I am sure he's…" He trailed off and fell back on the bed as the drug did its work.

Relieved Sansa went to the door, closed and bolted it. Then she set to work. First she heaved Walder onto the bed; he was heavier than he looked. She then took off his cloths. With Shae's knife she cut the night shirt into strips and used them to tie him by his wrists and ankles to the four posts. She stuffed a fifth piece into his mouth, gaging him.

Not wanting to get blood on her dress she replaced it with one of Walder's night shirts, rolling up the sleeves till they fit. Walking up to the bed she stared at him for a moment, building up her hatred till it threatened to overwhelm her, and then she set to work.

She took the knife and cut along his thigh. The cut wasn't deep but it got the desired results. With a grunt he came awake. As his senses returned and he realized the predicament he was in he began to struggle against his restrains and yell into the gag; Sansa was not by any means an expert with knots but Walder was an old man and lacked the strength to get loose.

After a brief struggle he ceased and Sansa walked into his view. "Do you know who I am?" She asked simply. His eyes showed rage but no recognition. "Let me give you a clue then; you murdered those very dear to me." As she said this she lightly ran the blade over his chest and belly. Now recognition filled his eyes and he renewed his struggling.

As he did so she began speaking in a casual voice. "What you're feeling right now? It is fear and helplessness; please believe me when I say I am very familiar with them, your masters the Lannisters taught them to me very well indeed. Now," she said in a tone of false good cheer; "Where shall we begin?"

She slid the blade down to prick his groin. Terror filled his eyes but he remained perfectly still, afraid any movement would cause the blade to cut him. "No," she said after a moment's pause; "I think we'll wait on that. We don't want you bleeding out just yet."

Sansa could not quie describe how she felt. She felt disgust and what she was doing and planning to do. Yet at the same time she had never felt so alive and exhilarated. But what she felt most of all was hate; hate for the man who had murdered her family. When she thought of that she found she could enjoy this.

"Well," she said, the false cheer returning; "You have chosen to bend the knee to the Lannisters. At your age that must be hard, let me help you." So saying, and her smile turning vicious, she jammed the knife under his right kneecap and began working it back and forth. He screamed into the gag and thrashed around but was unable to get loose. With a final spasm he passed out.

That angered Sansa, she was far from done and she wanted him to feel everything. She slapped him several times but it had no effect. Her anger rising, she took the knife and cut along his side, the blade scrapping along his ribs. That woke him up.

"Oh good, your awake." She said. She had blood on her face and she ran the blade lightly over her face as she tried to mimic the cheerful yet cruel smiles she had seen Joffery use when he hurt her or others. At that moment she had never felt farther from the Sansa Stark of Winterfell.

She briefly thought of Arrya, how she had always called her weak and foolish. _What would you think of me now? _Sansa thought. _Would you approve, or would you be repelled and horrified._ She tried not to think what the rest of her family would think, she already knew. _Their dead,_ she thought violently, _their dead and can't think anything and this man is to blame._

Looking down at him the false cheer left her face. "How does it fell?' She spat, all the hate and pain she felt coming into her voice. "How does it feel, to be in the hands of someone who has no pity or mercy? You made my mother and brother feel it, now it's your turn!"

With a surge of anger she struck him across the face while at the same time thrusting the knife into his side. "You murdered them!" She screamed in his face. "You murdered my mother," she screamed as she pulled the knife out and thrust it in again. "You murdered my brother and his wife!" Thrust. "You killed the only people in the world who I loved; for what!?" Thrust. "Money?!" Thrust. "A title!?" Thrust. "Your injured pride, lost honor!?" Thrust. "Anyone who would do what you did wouldn't have any honor to begin with!" Thrust.

The exertion had left her exhausted and covered in blood. Her rage had left Walder Frey's belly a bloody mess; he was sliding in and out of consciousness he likely couldn't last long. Sansa knew she could not make him suffer nearly as much as he deserved but she was not going let he slip away without causing him as much pain as possible.

She waited until he was conscious again so he could see what she was going to do. She grabbed his manhood, twisted it. And, with Frey staring, sliced it off. He rose up as far as his bonds would allow and howled into his gag, then collapsed back onto the bed.

Sansa fell back panting. Part of her was sickened and she felt bile rising in her. But her hate still beat strong and forced the bile down and the feelings of sickness into the back of her mind. She walked to the fire and threw the bloody organ into it. She wasn't quite done.

She went back to the table where she had set the wine bottle and picked it up and carried it back to the bed. She uncorked the bottle and poured its contents over Frey, from his face to his mutilated groin. Going back to the fire she took a burning ember from the fire with a pair of tongs. She took the ember and held it in front of his eyes.

"Burn in hell." She said, the dropped it on him.

Instantly the wine ignited burning him from face and belly. He thrashed about and screamed with renewed vigor. However, it was clear that, between the fire, the wounds and resulting blood lose, he wouldn't last long.

Sansa stood there watching him till his struggles ended and it was clear he was dead. Going to a nearby washbowl she washed the blood off and put Shae's dress back on. Taking one last look at Walder Frey's remains she turned and left the room.

She made her way back to her rooms without being noticed. As she entered she saw that her husband and maid were still asleep. She returned the dress and donned her own.

Going to her bed she felt a stab of fresh pain as she remembered her family. She felt her eyes tearing up, but it wasn't enough, it could not express the depth of her pain. She cast her mind out to a bird she saw at the window.

Flying over the country side she soon saw what she sought. On the way she had heard that the number of wolves in the countryside had been growing and she had found some. She entered the largest of them, clearly the leader of the pack.

As soon as she was in control she walked to the top of a hill overlooking the pack. Once there she threw back her head and howled. Into that howl she poured all she had felt since her father's death. The grief, the pain, the loneliness, all of it.

The rest of the pack took up the howl and soon they were all giving voice to her grief. _Yes, _she thought; _grieve for those who honored your kind by taking you as their sigil._ _Grieve for them as I cannot._

Her work done she returned to her body. Afterwards she sat in the dark and listened to the howling of the wolves. None of her family had had proper funerals. Now though, she felt they had finally been laid to rest. _Goodbye, rest in peace._

**Author's Notes: Well there you have it. Did he get his just deserts or did I go too far? Pl ease let me know in the reviews. In addition to my usual prayer requests I would please ask those reading this to pray for the people of South Dakota. A big storm hit there and killed around 100,000 head of cattle. The people who lost them depend on them for their livelihood. Thank you and may Jesus bless them and you. **


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